


Between the Shelves

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bookstore Trope, Consensual Sex, Dom Loki, Eating out, Edging, F/M, Fingering, Light Bondage, Orgasm Denial, Reader Insert, Slow Burn, Smut, but not too slow, seductive loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-14 22:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20608559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie
Summary: You were just closing up your bookshop when Loki strolled in, but he wasn't interested in anything he could find on the shelves.





	1. Chapter 1

Late nights were always slow.

Not that you were particularly busy at any time of the day, the draw of an antique bookstore seemed to escape most of the local populace, but it was especially dead once the sun fell beneath the skyscrapers blotting out the horizon. It was difficult, keeping up with online shopping and ebooks; the convenience of holding an entire library in one device was too tempting for many. But you had never been able to resist the allure of holding such wonderful stories in your hands, feeling the history and magic forever pressed into the musty pages. 

To cut costs, you worked the store alone, which wasn’t an issue. You were smart; you had a security system, and no thief worth their salt would think to rob a bookstore to receive a payout worth anything, anyway. 

The downtime gave you time to bustle around, reorganizing books that had been picked up only to be put down elsewhere, or put new books that you had found out into stock. If it was a truly exciting day, you got to rearrange the shelves when one section grew too big for its current location.

So, you were a bit shocked when the bells above your door tinkled pleasantly, alerting you to a customer just minutes before you were to close up for the night. You stifled the groan that wanted to come from deep within you - you had been enjoying reading an old tome of poetry that someone had donated to you just that afternoon. Slipping a bookmark into the yellowed pages, you plastered on your happy face reserved for dealing with customers and stood up from behind the counter.

“Can I help you with anything?” you asked, walking through the tall aisles of bookshelves to where you had last heard the sure footsteps of the customer. You rounded the last aisle to see a well-dressed gentleman staring at the shelves with a critical eye. He cut a handsome silhouette, even illuminated poorly by the harsh fluorescent lighting. An angular jaw, sharp cheekbones, slightly curled raven hair, and a slender but long frame all combined to make him look regal, powerful, far too grand for your humble used bookstore.

His eyes were just as startling as the rest of him, lifting to you and penetrating through to your very soul as he took you in. His thin lips pursed, thoughtful, before waved his hand around your store. “Is this the entirety of your selection?”

Bristling a bit at the judgement in his tone, you nodded, maintaining your painfully polite service persona. “It is. But we have a variety of genres available, and our stock is always changing as we get new donations or I find a hidden gem forgotten in some flea market. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

His regarded you coldly, as if you were a book he was considering, before looking back to the shelves. “I have not yet decided.”

You nodded and gave him your best smile, gesturing behind you at a stack of books you had intended to shelve after you closed for the night. But if he was going to stay here for a bit, you might as well get it done now. You didn’t want to get lost in the music of your poetry only to be ripped from it. “I’ll just get these put up, then. If you need anything, let me know.”

He didn’t acknowledge you, and after an awkward pause, you turned on your heel and loaded up several books in your arms, careful to hold them as to not damage the covers made fragile with age. His presence nagged at the back of your mind, always there as you slowly shelved your latest finds.

With one book left, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and instinctively you looked up to see the striking customer watching you from the end of the aisle. Ignoring the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach at his undivided attention, you perked up, tilting your head a bit to the side. “Sure you don’t need any help with anything?”

He prowled toward you lazily, like a tiger circling its prey, confident in the knowledge that he had you ensnared beneath the intensity of his gaze. He stopped so that the barest of breaths separated your bodies. His cologne, masculine with hints of leather and spice, made your head swim at the headiness of it. "Is what you truly desire, for me to purchase a book?" He took the book from your hands and set it on the shelves behind you before clasping both hands on the shelves on either side of your head, boxing you in and towering over you.

“I, um. Well…” you stammered.

He bent his head so his mouth hovered over yours. "Tell me to stop and I will."

You should. You should tell him to back the hell off of you, that this wasn't okay, that he needed to get out of your store before you called the cops. But you didn't. You only stared up into his emerald eyes, counting the dark flecks in them as his sweet breath fanned across your face, struck dumb at the curiosity that demanded to be sated by his touch.

His lips curled up into a pleased smile before his hands left the shelves, one cupping the back of your neck while the other came to rest on the curve of your hip. He broached the scant distance between you, brushing his lips across yours with the faintest of caresses. For such an intimidating man, you expected raw passion in his kiss, taking everything from you and overwhelming your senses. But his soft mouth smoothed over yours tenderly, almost chastely, save for the rubbing of his thumb over your hip bone.

When he pulled away, his nose rasping against yours, you followed him, standing on the tips of your toes to chase his mouth and kiss him more thoroughly this time, balancing yourself with your hands splayed across the deliciously hard muscles of his chest. A pleased sound hummed from his throat, and he steadied you against him with a hand clutched tighter to your waist, pressing you along the length of his torso. 

He was all warmth and desire, flooding your limbs with an addictive buzz that weakened your knees and sent your heart racing against your ribcage. You wanted to drink him in, be consumed by him, and when he flicked the blade of his tongue against your lower lip, heat of a different sort shot down between your legs. You were both panting for air when he removed himself fully from you, stepping back, and you knew you had to wear a similar expression to his: face flushed, eyes darkened and shining with desire, lips parted and begging for another taste. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and it drew your attention like a magnet.

“Until we meet again,” he said quietly, intimately, his accented voice coated in sin and layered with lust. His eyes raked over your body with a hunger that made you clench the muscles of your stomach in anticipation.

And then he was gone, leaving you dazed and more than a little worked up against the bookshelves. “What was _that_?” you asked out loud, as if the ancient tomes could answer back.

Shaking yourself from the trance his touch induced, you set about closing up the store for the evening, chewing on your bottom lip absentmindedly. You hadn’t even heard the bells sing his exit you had been so distracted. You chided yourself as you went back to the counter, feeling foolish for getting go swept away by a random stranger. You knew better than to let someone just _kiss_ you like that, out of nowhere.

But, _oh_, what a kiss it had been.

Grabbing the book of poetry you had abandoned, you went to put it into your bag to take home when a piece of ivory paper sticking out of the side caught your eye. Curious, you pulled it out, finding that one side contained elegant script in dark green ink that read:

_I will return tomorrow following the closing of your establishment. Be prepared. - Loki_

You tested his name on your tongue, enjoying the way it felt on your lips almost as much as you did his kiss. “It’s a date.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki returns, as promised.

“Get a grip,” you hissed at yourself beneath your breath, as if saying it aloud would stop the nerves fluttering in your stomach and your hands from shaking.

Surely Loki wasn’t actually going to return. It must have been some cruel joke played against you, although you didn’t have any enemies to speak of, and if you did, what would have been the reward? Watching you bustle about your bookstore anxiously, aligning spines on the shelves for lack of a better outlet for your nervous energy? If it wasn’t a joke, then maybe he had been on some sort of drugs, and you had been an easy target to his raging desires. That would explain him kissing you out of nowhere and then leaving just as suddenly. Normal people didn’t do that sort of thing.

But, you knew now that he wasn’t normal. If it weren’t for the dangerous aura that he gave off, you felt like you’d seen him before, so a quick Google search of his name brought up countless news articles of the very same man leading the invasion on New York City all those years ago. He had been mad, crazed, in the footage the fact that you had been alone with him in your bookshop last night sent chills down your spine.

The fact that they were born both of twisted excitement and pure terror was besides the point.

A heavy sigh of relief passed through your lips when the clock let you know that it was finally time to close up for the night. You abandoned your post next to the heavy oak front door to lock it, turning off the overhead lights as you headed back toward your desk.

You were _not_ disappointed that he hadn’t showed. That would be foolish and rash. You were a sensible woman who _wasn’t_ pining over a man whose kiss had curled your toes and sent waves of heat through you that you hadn’t felt in far too long. You weren’t the type for one night stands, especially not with the likes of him.

Lit only by a few warm lamps scattered about the store, they were much more forgiving on your tired eyes than fluorescent bulbs, you set about doing one last sweep of the shelves. You had checked them thoroughly and repeatedly the entire day, but old habits die hard, and it would only take a moment.

You stopped short when, cloaked in shadows, you came upon Loki leaning against the bookshelves in the back of the store. You hadn’t even heard the bell of his entrance, but knowing his penchant for magic, that wasn’t inexplicable.

“Loki,” you breathed, heart instantly slamming against your ribcage, shock whisking away half of your vocabulary and your entire ability to use it. “You came back.”

He stepped into the faint circle of light from the nearest lamp, illuminating the harsh planes of his face with a sinister effect that made your blood run cold. He smirked, gaze dragging over you greedily with all the familiarity of a lover. “I said I would, did I not?”

You gulped, taking a step backward for each slowly advancing stride of his own. “Y-you did, yeah. But the shop is closed, now, so it’s probably best if you leave.”

A low chuckle, both ominous and seductive, sounded from his throat. He was in your territory, your safe place, but he acted as if he owned it. As if he owned _you_. “Have I not made it evident that it is not the books I am here to peruse?”

“I know who you are,” you threatened, back colliding with the shelves behind you, stopping your retreat. You spoke as if your knowledge would make any difference to him. Knowing him, knowing his past, such a threat wasn’t likely to deter him at all. And did you really _want_ it to?

“And how does that make you feel, pet?” he purred, finally coming to a stop just inches away from you.

The warmth that radiated out from his body washed over your skin like a drug, calling out to you, begging you to come closer and lose yourself in it. He reached out with long, elegant fingers to tilt your chin up to him and force you to meet the gleaming fire of his gaze. You were under his spell again, mute and frozen to the spot as he towered over you. 

“Use your words,” he commanded, a silken warning lying just beneath the surface.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you managed to sputter out, voice wavering with the lie of it, barely audible over the roaring of your blood in your ears. 

His hand skated down, sizzling against your electrified nerves, to settle against the side of your neck, caressing your jaw with the pad of his thumb. Your entire body ached with desire as each touch stoked the flame that he had lit within you the previous night. 

His head dipped down so that his cheek grazed yours and his lips barely brushed against the shell of your ear with each hushed word, “How your heart races, like a frightened rabbit cornered by a wolf. Do _not_ believe that you can lie to me.”

He stepped closer so that his lean body, taut and muscled, pressed yours into the bookshelf. The barest caress of his lips across your cheek made you shudder, and mirth reflected in his eyes when he pulled back enough to rest his forehead against yours, staring you down. “Try again.”

Pinned both beneath the intensity of his stare and his body encompassing yours, you were trapped. Some part of you, some sick part deep down, reveled in the feeling of helplessness it brought you. He could do anything he wanted and you were powerless to stop him. And you _loved_ it. 

“I’m afraid.”

Of what? You couldn’t keep a tight enough grasp on your thoughts to find out.

A smirk stretched over his face, tugging on lips that you had become acquainted with last night and wanted to know again, and he rewarded your honesty by settling his large hand over the dip of your waist. His touch branded your skin, heat seeping through the thin fabric of your clothing to scorch your skin, adding another log to the fire burning in your aching center.

“As you should,” he cooed, circling his hand back behind your head to tangle in your hair and tug on it, tilting your head back even farther, exposing the line of your neck to him. “But, if you are willing, all you need fear is the desire I will awaken in you before I am finished with you.”

_Fuck, were you willing._

He claimed your mouth for his without warning, having left all notions of gentility in the past. Working his lips over yours roughly, he pulled you flush against him with his firm grip on your waist and head. You responded eagerly, your lips parting to the invasion of his tongue, hot and wet and dripping with heady desire that pooled in the wet heat between your legs. Your hands slid onto the collar of his dark button-down shirt, smoothing over muscles that twitched in response to your shaky touch.

Your heartbeat stuttered when he broke the kiss to trail his lips down to where it pulsed in your throat, sucking the thin flesh languidly. A quiet mewl came unbidden from within you when he sank his teeth into you, just enough to toe the line between pleasure and pain, and you felt his lips turned up into a pleased smirk.

“Enjoy that?” he asked, sounding like he took far too much gratification in that discovery. His hand traveled down your waist to wrap around your back and curl around your backside, rolling your hips into his. 

Emboldened by the hard evidence of his arousal grinding into your navel, you allowed your hands the luxury of snaking around his back to skim down the length of his spine. “It seems that _you_ did.”

In a movement almost too fast to catch, he ripped himself from your embrace. You had been leaning into him more than you realized, and you stumbled forward half a step from the sudden lack of support. The buttons of his shirt strained from the heaving of his chest as he fought for air as you did, regarding you coldly. “Keep your hands to yourself, or I will leave this instant.”

You stifled the groan of frustration that wanted to make itself known. You weren’t _that_ wanton that you would be reduced to a begging mess at the denial of your basest urges. But you needed him, desperately, your swollen lips longed to be molded to his in another passionate kiss, so you hastily nodded your assent. Agreeing to his terms was _not_ the same as begging.

“I do not believe that I can trust you,” he said lowly, roughly, a layer of his polished accent having been teased away by the tangling of your tongues moments ago. He slowly stepped back into you, his hands encircling your wrists and holding them captive behind you, cushioning the back of your head against his arms. He gave you a truly wolfish smile and lust blew out his pupils, darkening his eyes as he admired your defenseless position. “That will do nicely.”

Starting from his hips, he rolled his body against yours, inch by tantalizing inch, drinking in your expression as your face flushed with unabashed pleasure. His knee slid between your legs, forcing them apart and rubbing against the jeans covering your sex just as he sucked your bottom lip in between his teeth.

It was _too much_. From his thigh dragging your jeans against you, creating just the right amount of friction to tighten the coil of your ecstasy in your stomach, to his tongue smoothing along yours, to the enticing masculine scent of leather and spice that lingered on his skin, you were fit to burst. You drank him in, curling your body into his, taking from him everything you could in hopes it would replace the oxygen that he had stolen from you with each grind of his erection into your soft lower belly.

He swallowed your gasp of pleasure when you managed to tilt your hips just right to drag the stiff denim of your jeans against your throbbing clit, sending a bolt of electricity shooting through your body, tingling and addictive. A low moan rumbled from his chest, dark and deep, as you ground yourself against his leg. It was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard, and you longed to have it fill the cluttered space of the shop over and over again. His hands moved up to lace his fingers with yours, and you gripped onto him like a lifeline in the face of your approaching orgasm.

You whined impetuously and opened your eyes to see why he drew back from you, catching his own heavy-lidded stare as he studied the rapture written across your face. Held firm to the punishingly hard wooden shelves by his hands, you bowed your back, seeking the last bit of attention you needed to fall into the height of bliss. No longer did you care that you had lost all dignity, begging him silently to touch you with furrowed brows and pleading eyes, because you were _so close_.

“How easily you fall apart,” he remarked, almost sounding disappointed. Power and thirst warred on his elegantly sculpted face as he watched you writhe helplessly beneath his the shackles of his hands. He feathered his lips against yours in a light, tender kiss. After taking one deep, calming breath, he released you to smooth his calloused fingertips across the heated skin of your cheeks. “Tomorrow.”

And then, just as silently and swiftly as he had entered, he sauntered away from you and out the front door of your shop - hadn’t it been locked?

You ran your hands through your hair, trembling with unfulfilled desire that throbbed between your legs, biting your bottom lip - reddened from his kiss - between your teeth. If he was able to bring you right to the edge of your climax with a smattering of stolen kisses and the quick tease of your bodies undulating together masterfully, what would he do to you if this progressed further? You _needed_ to find out.

He was going to be the death of you.

And what a sweet petit mort it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki shows up to your bookstore a bit earlier than expected.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you and let you know if it turns up. No, thank you. Okay. Buh bye.”

You settled the landline phone back into its cradle, jotting down the book a regular customer had called to inquire about. Knowing the store’s selection like the back of your hand, you didn’t have the book in stock, but you could put out a request with other antique booksellers to see if they had any leads. It was worth it to keep a loyal customer happy, as you had so few in the first place.

Your small office was sequestered in the back of the store behind the counter. It was barely big enough for your desk, chair, and the filing cabinet tucked into the corner. It was bordering on claustrophobic, but you found that leaving the door open mitigated that a bit. It also helped you hear the bells chime to alert you to a customer, as they did at that moment.

You stood up, bending over your desk to add the note to the others - detailing other books that needed chasing, important reminders for bills to pay, and any other odd bit of information you knew you’d forget in a heartbeat. “Coming!”

“In due time.”

The richly accented voice, low and silken, sent goosebumps of recognition and anticipation over your exposed skin. Your head shot upward to catch the source of it. Loki almost overwhelmed the small doorway with his long frame and sharp shoulders, leaning casually against the rough wood as his eyes met yours briefly before brazenly falling to the cleavage visible down your blouse from your hunched position, drinking in the sight like a man stranded in the desert.

You straightened up, smoothing your hands over your soft skirt that you most certainly had _not_ chosen for him. That would imply that you were looking forward to his arrival, that you wanted his touch and hoped to know it on the skin of your legs. _If not elsewhere._

You had planned out what you would say to him after closing, how you would approach him and demand to know what this was all about. But, his arrival hours earlier than expected had thrown you off, so all you could do was sputter out, “It’s too early for you to be here.”

He quirked a brow, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk. You followed the path of one of his hands with his eyes, watching it bunch the smooth fabric of his shirt over his muscles, exposing their sculpted lines for the briefest moment. “I was unaware that I had agreed upon a time for our next rendezvous.”

You frowned, racking your mind for his hushed promise the previous evening. Your cheeks flamed at the recollection of his heated touch along your body, working you into a frenzy and then leaving you without finishing what he had started. Damn, he was right. He had only said he’d come, but never at a certain time. That inference was all your own, and it was incorrect. 

“Well, no, but I can’t leave. I have customers to attend to.” You stood your ground, but it was shaky ground at best, and you both knew it.

He _tsked_, pursing his lips and shaking his head as he moved into the room to splay his hands across the papers strewn about your messy desk, leaning forward. “Who said anything about leaving? Besides, there is no one else here but you and I.”

Chills coursed down your spine. Swallowing to combat the sudden dryness in your mouth, you backed away from him against the wall, heart racing in your chest. “Loki, we _can’t_.”

“Can’t, or shouldn’t? I have never been one for following the rules if they did not please me.” He swiftly righted himself and stepped around the desk, drawing his fingertip up the buttons of your blouse, fingering one that rested just below the start of your cleavage. “As always, if you say that you do not want this, I will stop.” He ducked his head to rake his sharp cheekbone along yours, tickling the sensitive flesh of your jaw with his parted lips. “Just say the word.”

Those small touches set your nerves on fire, spiraling tendrils of desire down your body to gather between your legs. You appreciated the choice he gave you, you truly did, but you craved the pleasure he could unfold within you more than the possible risk of getting caught. To be honest, the risk of it was _thrilling_. Your hands trembled slightly when they reached out to smooth along his abdomen, delighting in the twitching muscles beneath his button-down shirt. 

You angled your head to the side, nudging his face back with your nose until your lips were just a whisper apart. “Loki…” you breathed, unsure of what to say, what to ask for and how to ask for it. You just knew he could give it to you, sate the desire thrumming beneath your skin.

His eyes gleamed with excitement and he cupped your jaw with his free hand, drawing the pad of his thumb along your lower lip. Without thinking, your tongue darted out to taste the flesh roughened from years of weapons training, slightly salty and very masculine. A rough groan rumbled out from within him and his pupils dilated, revealing just how much the impulsive gesture had affected him. 

All rational thought flew from your mind, driven away by his passionate kiss. His smooth lips worked against yours, demanding access to you so his tongue could slip inside your mouth and taste you for himself. One hand snaked between your backside and the wall, pressing your hips together, and the faint stirrings of his arousal against your lower belly stole the oxygen from the room. 

His other hand smoothed down your side, over your thighs, to hook under your knee, pulling your leg up and around his waist. The new angle, coupled with his fingers sliding the fabric of your skirt up your legs so that it bunched at your waist, allowed for more delicious friction to drag across your underwear-covered sex. Bolts of electricity shivered out from your core with each grind of his pelvis against yours, and he swallowed your breathy gasps, his tongue plundering your mouth with equal fervor.

If it weren’t for the most annoying three layers of clothing in the world - his pants and both of your pairs of underwear - he would be inside you, thrusting at just the right tempo to bring you to your peak, filling you and stretching you exquisitely.

Instead, you were left wanting, a growl of frustration surprising you as it passed your lips when he suddenly pulled away from you. His lips were swollen and reddened, hair disheveled, eyes shining darkly, the epitome of lust and sin, as he smiled down at you. “You have a customer.”

The four words shot ice water through your veins. You tried to straighten your clothes to the best of your ability, hands shaking as you smoothed down your hair. You had no idea what the state of your makeup was, but there wasn’t anything to be done about that now. And although you knew who he was, what he was capable of, you still did a double-take when he disappeared before your very eyes.

There wasn’t any time to wonder about that, as an elderly woman shuffled to the door of your office, peeking inside. An awkward smile settled onto your lips when you recognized a regular customer, Mrs. Johnson, who liked to come in at least once a week and shoot the breeze. She always bought something, even if it was just one of the bookmarks you sold for a dollar, but the company was always welcome.

Except for when it interrupted a _certain_ encounter with a _certain_ god who had since made himself scarce. You had to shake that from your mind - it wasn’t here fault - and you pulled out a fold up metal chair from behind the door for her to sit on before settling behind your desk, tucking your legs beneath the wood. 

“How can I help you today?” you asked, plastering on your customer service persona. All you really wanted to do was tell her to scram, but that wouldn’t do. You weren’t that cruel, or that idiotic to lose a customer.

“Oh, I just stopped by because I haven’t seen you in a few days! How are you doing?” She settled herself into the proffered chair, looking like she was readying herself for a long conversation.

Beneath the desk, just as you opened your mouth to answer, long-fingered hands slid up your calves and over your inner thighs. A sharp gasp tumbled out of your mouth instead of words, and you bowed your head for a second, clearing your throat. Your foot kicked out, trying to deter Loki, who had somehow gotten under there, but he only pinched your thigh sharply in response. You grimaced against the gush of desire that flooded your panties.

“You okay, dearie?” Mrs. Johnson asked, watching you suspiciously.

His hands slid beneath the fabric of your skirt, slowly massaging the skin, lighting you on fire from the inside out. You had to bite your bottom lip to contain a moan when he, finally, after days of endless teasing, dragged one fingertip over your slit on top of your underwear. 

Clenching your jaw, you took a deep breath, holding it longer than necessary to look back up at Mrs. Johnson with a tight smile. “Just great. How’re you?” Anything to get her talking so you don’t have to say anything else.

She launched into some story about her cat playing with a piece of crinkled up newspaper, which you wouldn’t care about on a normal day, but when Loki dipped his finger beneath the hem of your underwear to stroke your dripping folds, you definitely couldn’t give one iota of a fuck.

His voice slithered into your mind just as you suddenly feel the cool air of the room on your hot sex, _“How naughty of you, to allow this to go on while you’re conducting business.”_

“Did you hear me, dear?” Mrs. Johnson snapped her fingers in your face.

Fighting the increasing waves of pleasure his fingers created from flicking your hardened clit, you shook your head, unable to stop panting long enough to speak. Your hands dug into the leather of your chair at the armrests, fighting for any bit of control over your body you can manage.

“I asked you if you’re feeling well. You’re breathing rather hard and your face is bright red!”

Loki chose that moment to slide two thin fingers inside of you, curling them _just so_, finding your g-spot within moments. You couldn’t suppress your moan of pleasure at the sudden penetration, and another when he rubbed against your sensitive inner spot over and over again. A shudder wracked your body, and you shook your head. “I’m actually not-”

He captured your clit between his lips, tapping the blade of his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You slammed your hand down on the armrest, jutting out your jaw from the ecstasy hovering just out of reach from your clenched fingers. He alternated licking and nibbling gently on your clit and the thrust of his fingers inside of you, working you up into a frenzy that didn’t give a damn that an elderly woman was looking at you like you were possessed.

Drawing as deep a breath as you could manage with the overwhelming bliss wiping most coherent thought from your mind, you lifted your trembling hand and pointed it at the door. “Just go. I feel sick. Go!”

“Well, I never!” Mrs. Johnson shouted indignantly, standing up and storming out.

The tinkling of bells signifying her exit was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Fuck, Loki!” you exclaimed, your entire body taut as he thrust into you harder. Your muscles shook as you climbed faster and faster toward your orgasm, led by his curled fingers and hot tongue. 

Just when you were about to come, ragged moans spilling from your lips like the sweetest song, eyes clenched tightly shut to block out anything that would detract from the fire he stoked between your legs, his touch left you.

You wanted to burst into tears at the lack of stimulation. At being so close once again only for him to retreat as he had the previous two days. You sank back into your chair, glaring at Loki as he appeared in front of you, sucking two of his fingers into his mouth while his eyes stared into yours.

The obscenity of the gesture was almost too much. It was _you_ that he was cleaning off of himself, the slick evidence of your desire and readiness for him. Still, you were more frustrated than ever before as you slowly came down from your high, and you crossed your arms - weakened from having been clenched for so long - over your stomach. “Fuck you.”

He grinned, far too pleased with himself, planting both hands on the armrests of your chair to crowd you. “In due time, as I said.”

He smiled lasciviously before kissing you deeply. His lips were slick with your juices, and the taste of you mixed with him was intoxicating, drugging you into losing yourself in him. Just as you forgot yourself and reached up to cup his chiseled cheeks in your greedy hands he stepped away, straightening up so he was out of your reach.

“Loki, please,” you whined, all dignity having crumbled at the denial of your third orgasm from the devilish man. You didn’t care. You wanted him, wanted to take your pleasure from him, know the taste of his, and he was dangling it in front of you like a dog a bone.

“You must learn to follow the rules, pet. Perhaps next time you will remember. Only good girls who listen are granted their release,” he chided, looking almost disappointed in your desperation. “Do not pleasure yourself while I am gone. If I learn that you did I will be very cross. Until tomorrow.”

And you were left as you had been in the past, panting in the wake of his touch, seeking a release only he could give.

Only this time, you were missing your underwear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and for the lovely feedback! It's so appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki returns for his bookshop owner.

“What are men to rocks and mountains?”

But Loki was _no_ man.

The quote that you often thought to yourself when you were low, yearning for the romance that you found within musty pages of tales long ago, was not as comforting to you as it had been once upon a time.

Now, knowing the rock-hard length of his arousal rubbing against your thigh, having felt the mountains of his muscles beneath the silky fabric of his clothing, you realized you had been mistaken. Nothing was better than the moments you had spent entwined with him, stealing breathless moments of passion amongst the shelves.

But it had been _days_. He said he would return to you the next day, and he hadn’t shown. Now, walking home very much alone, your mind ran with conflicting doubts and worries. Was he okay? Had something happened to him? It was common knowledge that he had been assisting the Avengers on various missions. Would they protect him if one of them went south, or would old grudges resurface?

Were you actually worried about him?

Cursing yourself, you shoved your hands into the pockets of your coat against the chill of the frigid night air, ducking your head as you continued on toward your apartment. Maybe he had gotten tired of you? It wouldn’t be a shock for him to realize that he was a literal god on Earth who could bed anyone he pleased and not a boring bookshop owner. What did _you_ have to offer him?

Sighing heavily in resignation, you slipped into your building, trudging up the several flights of stairs to your tiny one-bedroom apartment. Living in the city wasn’t cheap, and the bookshop wasn’t exactly rolling in revenue. But it was home, and it was welcome after a long day filled with frustration and drudgery. 

Not bothering to turn on the lights for the ambient glow streaming in through the blinds, you dropped your bag and coat onto the hooks by the front door, exhaustion weighing heavily in your limbs. Scrubbing your hand over your face, you tugged off your sweater as you walked to your bedroom, kicking off your shoes on the way. You tossed it onto the bed without a second thought.

“It is rather rude to throw clothing at a houseguest.”

You yelped in shock, turning to look at your bed as you backed up against the wall. It took a moment for you to recognize that low, seductive purr, having heard it in similarly lit situations and your thoughts for the past week. Your arms crossed over your chest, protectively covering what little of your breasts showed overtop your bra - as if you hadn’t been dreaming of him removing that flimsy barrier for several nights now.

“What are you _doing_ here?” you asked harshly, your eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness to make out his long and lithe form stretched across your bed, his arms behind his head and his ankles crossed as if he belonged there.

He dropped your sweater unceremoniously to the floor, tilting his head in your direction. “You,” he replied simply, the single word dripping with sin and desire that sent trickles of warmth through your body to gather between your legs.

“You can’t just-just burst into someone’s _locked_ apartment and think that they’ll do whatever you want,” you stammered, doing your best to look angered and intimidated, even though a small thrill went through you to know that he had returned to you after all.

“I can.” He rose from the bed in one graceful move, stalking toward you like a panther cornering its prey. “I did,” he whispered, crowding you against the wall with his body, no part of him touching you besides the sweetness of his breath fanning across your face. “And you will.”

He was so close that you could smell the heady aroma of his cologne, spicy and masculine, drawing you into him like a moth to a flame. Your hands seemed to move of their own accord, smoothing over the silk fabric of his button-down shirt to caress his shoulders before clasping together around the back of his neck. “I won’t,” you breathed, even as you tilted your chin up to make an offering of your slightly parted lips.

“You are,” he growled, just before he dipped his head to kiss you thoroughly, stepping forward to press the length of his hard body against yours, his hands anchored to your hips. 

You melted instantly, leaning into him as he slanted his mouth over yours, his tongue plundering your mouth with abandon. You gasped when the clothing beneath your hands melted away, leaving him shirtless, allowing you to explore the ridges and valleys of his sculpted abdomen that you had only begun to learn from your previous encounters. You drank everything about him in greedily, the steady and slow grind of his growing erection against your hip, the flexing muscles beneath your fingertips, the wicked elixir of his tongue tangling with yours, everything. It all worked together to overwhelm your senses and make you putty in his masterful hands.

Gasping for air, your head fell back against the wall when he dragged his lips from yours to press against the rabbiting pulse point of your neck. Your fingers clutched onto his sides, holding him to you, silently begging him to not pull away as he had so many times before.

His hands made quick work of your bra, skating across the skin of your back and cupping your backside after he tossed it to the side with an air of impatience.

“Have you followed my orders, darling?” he asked, voice rough with desire as he peppered your heaving chest with wet kisses, moving down to tease your pebbled nipple with his hot breath.

_Orders?_ Your hazy mind, muddled with lust, scrambled to figure out what he was referring to. It was made doubly hard when he quickly unbuttoned your jeans, tugging them and your underwear down and off your legs in one go. His fingertip swirled in the wet heat found between your folds, drawing a soft moan out of you.

He straightened up to his full height once again, simply allowing you to feel his body against yours as he touched you everywhere except the throbbing bundle of nerves at your center. It sent molten waves of pleasure coursing through you, pulsing in your ears and weakening your knees. You clutched his biceps, your head falling forward to rest on his shoulder as you struggled to remain upright.

His lips caressed the shell of your ear through your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. “To refrain from seeking your own release. Did you obey your god?”

A blush stained your cheeks - thank goodness it was dark - and you nodded, swallowing around the anticipation that stuck in your throat like a stone. Your body had felt the lack of his touch with the deepest ache, yearning to be sated by his lips, tongue, and fingertips, but you hadn’t allowed yourself the relief in hopes that he would return to finish what he had begun. “Yes.”

His hand stilled over you, and he kept your hips from thrusting against him desperately with his other hand pressing into your hip bone. “Yes, and?”

A flash of dark desire flooded you. You knew what he wanted, and after working yourself into a lather thinking about him nonstop for what felt like an eternity, you weren’t too proud to give it to him. Anything for his touch on your overheated skin. “Yes, _sir_.”

“Good girl,” he praised you, picking you up easily. He crossed over to your bed and settled you on it surprisingly gently. The light filtering in from the city that never slept was just enough to reveal the dark glint in his eyes as he drank in your sprawled naked form. Deft fingers worked at his leather belt while he maintained eye contact with you, the intensity of it holding you captive. “I’m going to restrain your hands, as I do not trust you not to break the rules as you did earlier and touch me. Your transgressions will not be so easily overlooked and forgiven again. Is that understood?”

Fear stood the hair on the back of your neck on end. Restrained? Your eyes widened as he knelt beside you on the bed, drawing the cool leather of his belt up your torso, grazing both nipples, before his hands lifted your wrists to pin them above your head. The position angled him above you so that he could run his nose along your jaw, his tongue darting out to run along the length of your neck. “Do not be afraid, pet. I’ll take care of you. Give yourself over to me.”

Even without restraints, Loki could do anything that he wanted to you and you would be unable to stop it. This way, you were unable to explore the glorious body that hovered over yours, beautiful in the shadows of your room. He had done nothing but bring about such glorious sensations in you, excluding the frustration of postponing your pleasure. But now he was undressing as well, holding you to the bed with his strong hands, so perhaps you would finally get to revel in him as you had longed for for so long. If you were good, of course.

“I’m yours, Loki,” you admitted, gasping in your next breath as he tightened the belt around your wrists at your breathy admission. It was true, if only for the night.

He growled, his body tensing above you at your words. You smiled at the power they held over him, but he was composed in an instant, righting himself by the bed once again. He undid the button and zip on his well-fitting black slacks, letting them fall to the floor dramatically, his lips curving into a pleased grin at the way you darted your tongue out to wet your lips at the sight of his erection straining against his underwear.

But he didn’t add that last article of clothing to the ever-growing pile on the floor, much to your dismay. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between your slightly spread legs, pushing them farther open with his hands at your knees. He stroked the flesh of your thighs as he moved his hands farther up your legs, bypassing the moist heat at your center to hook around your waist. With a firm tug that made you gasp in surprise, he pulled you down the bed so that your thighs rested against his with your knees bent to accommodate him between them.

“I will own you, body and soul, by the end of this evening. You will be ruined for any other but me, and then you will know the pleasure of my touch for the rest of your mortal days,” he vowed, dark and dangerous. 

He put all of his weight on one elbow, his free hand lighting over your body, never lingering in one spot long before moving on, taking his time before finally settling on your left nipple. He tweaked it between his thumb and forefinger, pulling on it just enough to toe the line between pleasure and pain, watching your face twist at the dueling sensations. You arched your back just slightly into his touch, each roll of his fingers sending a shock of ecstasy straight to your core. 

He lowered himself so that his cloth-covered erection rutted against your sex, matched in tempo by his lips suckling on your shoulder and his hand massaging your breast. You bit your lip to stifle the moans that longed to escape you, clenching your eyes against the building inferno he was stoking to life deep in your belly.

When his teeth clamped down firmly onto your shoulder just as his rigid cock found the perfect amount of friction against you, your mouth finally fell open to release a loud, guttural moan. He retreated at the sound, cruelly lifting his touch from you, and your eyes tore open to stare at him accusingly.

“You do not get to come without my permission. Understood?”

Tamping down your building frustration at the twisted ache inside of you yearning for release, you nodded, spreading your legs that much wider for him even as you submitted to his command. “Yes, sir.”

He rewarded you for your obedience by moving down your body, dotting your sweat-dampened skin with light kisses, on your collar bone, the swell of your heaving breast, your bellybutton, anywhere and everywhere within reach before he settled in between your legs. His arms snaked underneath you to wrap around your thighs, lifting them over his shoulders as he lay on the bed before you.

“Remember my rule,” he instructed, his eyes darkening as he breathed in the scent of your arousal. He dropped his mouth to you, darting his tongue out to tease between your glistening folds, and you were unable to keep your eyes open any longer.

It was the purest bliss and greatest torture, teasing at your folds without touching your entrance or your almost over-sensitive bundle of nerves. Your wrists strained against the belt holding them together, and the small stings of pain along your raw skin were almost a welcome relief against the slowly mounting coil of pleasure tightening in between your legs.

“Would you like me to end your suffering?” he asked, his smooth lips barely teasing against you.

“Please, Loki, please,” you begged, your voice raspy and hoarse, almost a sob with the intensity of your need.

He chuckled darkly, the rumble of it sending shockwaves of euphoria throughout your trembling limbs, before sealing his lips over you, flicking the blade of his tongue against your swollen clit. He suckled the sensitive flesh eagerly, and your inner walls clenched around him when he slid two fingers inside of you, the passage made easy by how ready you were for him. The curl of his long, elegant fingers beckoned you swiftly to an otherworldly orgasm.

After days and days of torture, it took but a few moments before your back bowed off of the bed, your hands clenching onto pillows and sheets for anything to hold you to reality as you cried out your release. You saw stars behind your clenched eyes, and all breath was stolen from your lungs.

Slowly, you floated back to reality, eased to the present moment by gentle laps of his tongue over your folds. You were boneless, completely spent, coasting on ecstasy as he planted a light kiss over your over-stimulated center that made you jump and hiss through your teeth.

You were keenly aware of his erection dragging along your skin as he kissed up your body - when had he taken off his underwear? It settled heavily against you, rubbing back and forth along you as he slowly thrust his hips back and forth in time with his mouth claiming yours. His tongue fought yours for dominance. He swallowed your quiet moans and gave you his in return, the timbre of them traveling through your chests crushed together beneath the pleasant weight of him.

His hands seared over your crackling nerves as they ghosted up your arms, making quick work of releasing them from the leather belt. You sighed at the release, your shoulders and upper arms had begun to ache slightly from the position, and dropped your arms to the bed on either side of you. 

He dropped his forehead onto yours lightly, his nose rubbing against yours as he teased your entrance with his cock. You opened your eyes to find him looking down at you, all of the green in his gaze almost lost his pupils blown with desire.

“Mine,” he whispered, almost reverently, just as he thrust himself fully into you in one long, smooth stroke.

Were it not for him pinning you to the bed with his exquisitely muscled frame, you would have curled around him fully at the tight stretch of him fully sheathed within you. Your muscles clenched around him, holding him inside of you, and the edges of his collected facade cracked with a stuttered moan coming from deep in his throat, his brows furrowed and his jaw dropping.

It was the most erotic sight you had ever seen.

“You are better than I could have ever imagined, love,” he murmured, pressing a lingering, thorough kiss to your lips.

As his thrusts increased in speed and force, you lost where you ended and he began. You were a tangle of limbs and moans, the sounds of your bodies meeting echoing around the room as he took you for his pleasure with each rut of his pelvis against yours.

He found the right angle, determined by your hitching gasps, that rubbed his public bone into your clit and the very tip of his impressive length against your g-spot. You were rocketing toward your second orgasm quickly, having never fully come down from the first, and you broke his rule without thought to wrap your arms around his back and cling to his flexing back muscles with all of your might.

You were encompassed and filled by the god, his grunts sounding into your ears, the salty taste of his skin intoxicating on your tongue, his large frame completely overwhelming yours as he pulled you to his chest with his arms pushed between your back and the bed.

With a strangled scream, you tumbled into your release, and you were barely able to make out his hips faltering as he moaned out his as well.

He fell to the bed beside you, rolling over onto his back, panting lightly. Your arm came up to drape over your eyes as your heart rate and breathing slowly came down to what could resemble normalcy.

The bed shifted, and you lifted your arm just enough to peek out at the cause of it. Loki was standing beside the bed, dressing quickly, but not in a way that suggested he was fleeing. It was efficient, no movement wasted.

“You’re leaving?” you asked softly, unable to hide the disappointment from your voice. You didn’t know what you had expected, but after so much build-up, a one night stand was not it.

Finishing the buttons of his shirt, he towered over you on the bed to brush his lips across your forehead before pulling away. “I am.”

The pang of your heart in your chest was unexpected, and you felt foolish for its existence. He hadn’t promised you anything, but that didn’t stop you from wishing for more just the same.

His long legs ate up the distance to your doorway. He paused in the frame, his hand coming up to settle on the worn wood lightly. “I will return to you soon. See to it that you remember the rules.”

And as you had come to expect, he was gone, leaving you sweaty, spent, and sated.

_Until next time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it!


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